Total pages in book: 95
Estimated words: 89350 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 447(@200wpm)___ 357(@250wpm)___ 298(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 89350 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 447(@200wpm)___ 357(@250wpm)___ 298(@300wpm)
Yeah. Not happening.
“Can we go to the park?” Daphne asked him before he’d even had his second sip. It didn’t matter how used to waking up early Mark was after a decade in the military—these kids were super early risers with almost inhuman energy levels first thing in the morning. And usually they went straight to Isaiah, who handled breakfast, although Mark was trying to help there.
But this was one of the first times the kid had asked him for something. “The park?”
“Yeah. The girls love the playground at Tidelands. I said we could maybe go today since there’s no school.” Isaiah was loading freezer waffles in the toaster oven, so Mark lined up plates for him. See. He could help. He already knew that Daphne ate half a banana while Zoe wouldn’t touch it, so he put half on her plate and the other half in the blender for the protein shake he’d make once the coffee settled.
“But I want you both to come.” Daphne pouted. “Not just Uncle Ikey.”
“I could use the extra set of hands.” Isaiah slipped a waffle on each plate. “It’s nuts keeping up with both of them and the baby too. You should come.”
His voice was easygoing as always, but his eyes were wary. Mark wasn’t so dense that he couldn’t tell that this was a peace offering of sorts. Isaiah was making more of an effort to keep him involved in kid stuff. The least Mark could do was help him out.
“Sure.” And honestly, Mark was glad for the distraction. He still wasn’t used to all this downtime. Too much time alone with his thoughts made him antsy. The last few days had been full of executor stuff—phone calls made and records requested, but now the weekend loomed large, hours to fill. The park sounded as good an excuse as any to get out of the house.
“And then we’re going to the store, because I am not eating casserole for dinner again.” Isaiah punctuated his words with a big bite of waffle. “I know people are just trying to be nice, but I need a break.”
“I need steak. And something simple. No more mystery sauces for a while.”
“You’re on. Steak. Potatoes. It’s a date.”
Oh no it’s not. Mark took a literal step back, almost running into the blender.
“Dude. Calm yourself. I’m gonna grill. Not put out.” Isaiah laughed.
“Put what?” Daphne asked with a frown as she finished her banana. “Put the trash out?”
“Yup,” he and Isaiah said at the same time.
Sorry, Isaiah mouthed at him, and Mark nodded while kicking himself. He still wasn’t used to little ears everywhere.
“Go get shoes on. And use the restroom,” Isaiah ordered the girls.
Loading Isaiah’s car with everything they’d need for a day out made Mark resolve to put car shopping for himself on the weekend agenda. He needed to be the driver again on so many levels. Not even a week into this gig and he still felt hopelessly behind and didn’t like having to follow other people’s leads on so much. He was used to taking swift, decisive action on his own.
Even little things bugged him, like how Isaiah parked directly under a palm tree in the parking lot. He hadn’t been to Tidelands since he was a kid himself, and the playground equipment all seemed new—large brightly colored molded pieces in aqua, pink, and purple with huge slides and multiple climbing surfaces.
“How about you try taking the big guy for once?” Isaiah asked as they unloaded. “The girls are going to want me to climb up after them, and it’s easier if I’m not wearing him.”
“Haven’t you heard of strollers?” Mark grumbled.
“He freaks out. Like the car seat but worse. I don’t wanna deal with that tantrum.” Isaiah’s curly hair danced in the sunlight as he shook his head. The early spring weather was perfect—breezy but sunny without the heat roasting all the plastic surfaces. “Nope. This is easier. Just bend down for me.”
Mark had worn hundred-pound packs before without issue, had parachutes, oxygen canisters, and medical equipment strapped to him, but Isaiah getting the kid settled freaked him out more than any of that. One wrong move and—
“Relax.” Isaiah had apparently taken up mind reading. “The pack’s made out of the same ripstop fabric the military uses. You should feel right at home.”
Oh yeah. Right at home. The baby was a warm, wiggly weight on his back, unlike any load he’d hefted before.
“Up!” Liam crowed, little fists beating on Mark’s shoulder blades.
“See how happy he is?” Isaiah grinned at him, nimble fingers clicking the belt around Mark’s waist, then going to adjust the chest clip. And his touch should not feel so good. It wasn’t like he was trying to turn Mark on. Mark was the one with issues, the one who couldn’t stop thinking about those hands on him with a lot less of an audience...